


Broken.

by shawnslittlepeach



Category: Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Badboy!Shawn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 22:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17191706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shawnslittlepeach/pseuds/shawnslittlepeach
Summary: 'Shawn was different when he was with you. He laughed more and smiled. He was happy, genuinely happy. But when he didn’t….he didn’t know what to do with himself. Knowing that he’s the one that fucked it up, that he let you walk away only makes it worse.'or Shawn is a heartbroken bad boy.





	Broken.

When you and Shawn ended, you thought that he’d be fine. After all, you were just another fun fling for him. He had girls on his arm every other night, you were just one of many so there was no reason why he would be upset. But he was.

He was an absolute mess actually, and anyone within a twenty-mile radius could see the self-destructive tornado that was Shawn Mendes.  

Shawn was different when he was with you. He laughed more and smiled. He was happy, genuinely happy. But when he didn’t….he didn’t know what to do with himself. Knowing that he’s the one that fucked it up, that he let you walk away only makes it worse.  

You were doing alright, under the circumstances. It still stung when you saw something that reminded you of him, and you still hadn’t managed to get the courage to delete the pictures of the two of you off your phone. But you were getting there. You were almost okay, until Brian called you in the middle of the night from Shawns phone, basically begging for you to come over. You had every reason to just hang up and tell Brian to fuck off but you didn’t. Instead, you grabbed your keys and were on the road to Shawns within five minutes.

By the time you pulled up to Shawns’ place, it was nearly two o’clock in the morning, and while every part of you should be pissed off and annoyed you weren’t. Just like you had an effect on Shawn, he had one on you. Your threshold for bullshit was so much higher when it came to Shawn. He was probably the most maddening man you’d ever known and yet nothing he did made you want to be without him.  love him any less. You may not have agreed with everything he’d done and were never shy to tell your opinions known, but you’d always give him the benefit of the doubt. Always give him a second chance, even if maybe he didn’t deserve it.

You weren’t even all the way at the door before, Brian had it swung open, dragging you inside.everyone's eyes full of concerned, a few looking exhausted. You could hear Shawn in his room, yelling something, above the blaring music, and a few crashes followed suit.

“He’s completely trashed. We had to drag him out of the bar, and he’s been at that for ten minutes.” Brian rushes, running a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry to wake you up, we just didn’t know what else to do.”

“No, it’s fine.”

Brian and the boys usher you towards Shawn’s room and when he opens the door, you are not at all surprised at the scene in front of you. Other than the music you’d heard blaring since you walked into the house, there are things thrown all across the small room. But it’s not the usual state of messy you were accustomed to. It's things from the walls hanging down, a broken bookshelf. A hole in the closet door. You’re not sure if it was done by something he’d thrown or something he’d done himself. The room was a complete wreck. And so was he.

When he turned around, and his eyes meet yours he seemed to snap out of it,  only for his anger to come back again tenfold when he sees Brian and the boys behind you.

“You called her!?” He spits, walking towards the door, but you step further into the destroyed room before he gets a chance to go any further.

“Don’t get mad at them, they didn’t do anything.” He glares at them and then down at you, eyes suddenly full of guilt.

He never wanted you to see him like this. He hated seeing the look on your face when he got into a fight. It was a cocktail of disappointment and fear. It was the fear that always hurt him the most.

“What are you doing here?” He slurs eyes glassy.

“Someone told me you were tearing apart your room and punching walls.”

“I’m fine.” He snaps, but his voice still much softer than it was towards the boys.

“No your not.”

He laughs, taking a bottle of Jack off the desk which seems to be one of the only things in the room he hasn’t broken.  

“What do you care anyway?”

He takes a big swig and you flinch as if it were your throat burning from the liquid.

“Please stop drinking.”

“Why?” He challenges.

“Because I think you’ve had enough,” you say with a little more authority in your voice, crossing your arms across your chest.

He lets out another bitter laugh, which only makes you more upset. Not angry, just...sad. Sad because you never meant for any of this to happen, you didn’t even think he cared about you and now knowing that he was hurting (regardless of his methods of expressing it) you felt terrible.

“Look I know you hate me right now but you can’t do things like this.”

 It’s when those words left your lips, that it was like a switch flipped. His shoulders slumped, over, all signs of anger gone.

“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.” He sits on the side of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, head hanging down, fidgeting with one of his rings.

You slowly made your way over to him, taking a seat on the bed next to him. You knew him well enough to know that sometimes the whole ‘badboy’ aggression thing was just an act. It was the only way he thought he could feel anything. Sometimes he just needed to talk.

You waited for a while, and when he didn’t say anything you decided to take the lead.

“Talk to me.” You lean into him, running a hand through his hair, encouraging him. It feels like an invasion of space like you didn’t have a right to touch him anymore. But he leans into your touch so you don’t pull away.

“What's there left to talk about. I’m a fuck up and you want nothing to do with me. I get it.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You may as well have.” He picks up the bottle that he had set on the ground next to him, and takes another big swig, before, ducking his head down again. There’s a small pause, and then you hear small sniffles coming from beside you.

“Why don’t you want me?”

You can’t think of the right thing to say, so you don’t say anything, because all you want to do is cry. You want to cry and screaming and cradle his face in your hands and tell him that you love him so so much. How could he possibly think you didn’t want him. Of course, you wanted him. He was all you could think about, but you couldn’t say it. Because a girl like you shouldn’t be with someone like Shawn. Someone like him shouldn’t even give you a second glance, and yet here he is, sitting in front of you tears staining his cheeks completely broken because he thinks you don’t want him.

“What do I have to do?”

“Shawn…”

“Tell me, please. I’ll do anything if you want me to stop fighting? Fine. I’ll stop hanging out with the boys if that’s what you want. I’ll put on a fucking sweater vest, just tell me what I have to do.” He pleaded, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand.

You’ve never seen him like this, so vulnerable and….scared?  

“You don’t have to do anything. I don’t want you to change who you are, you’ve got habits that aren’t the healthiest but...there’s nothing wrong with you Shawn.”

When you take your hand out of his, you could physically feel him deflate. And without even thinking you say it.

“Do you want me to stay?”

He looks up at you doe-eyed, and you’re sure you couldn't be any softer for the tattooed boy “Will you?”

“Yeah.”

You’re too scared to leave him to his own devices, you didn’t want him to cause any more damage than he already had, or hurt himself worse than he already was, so you stayed. You crawled further up his bed, tossing aside the books from his shelf that’d landed there and opened your arms up as an invitation, which he quickly accepted.

Shawn wanted you close, but secretly you wanted him closer.

He wraps himself around you like he’d done so many times before, burrowing himself into your chest. You bring your hand up into his hair scratching his scalp a little to calm him down but you can still feel a few tears escape as he mumbled more drunken confessions.

“Shh, we can talk in the morning, okay?”

       ……….

The next morning Shawn woke up, cold and alone in his bed, with nothing but regret on his mind. He didn’t remember much, from the night before but one look at his ransacked room jogged his memory. He remembered you coming over, he remembered crying, and he remembered you holding him so tight that he never wanted you to let go. But he also remembered the look on your face when you first walked into his room and that killed him.

He was about to reach for his phone, where ever he’d throw it, and text you a 50,000 character apology when he heard the familiar sound of your laugh coming from the kitchen. He thought he was imagining things, until he heard it again, followed by a few chuckles from the boys.

He padded his way down the stairs, his head pounded with every step he took, and low and behold, there you were standing in his kitchen, joking around with his roommates and cooking breakfast for everyone.

You felt his presence before the boys did, and the energy in the room instantly shifted.

You plated the remaining pancakes for the boys, before dragging Shawn back up to his room to talk.

You closed the door behind you, leaning up against it while Shawn sat at the end of his bed. For some reason, you were too scared to go near him. What if last night was a fluke? What if the only reason he was cuddly and wanted you so close was that he was completely plastered? The last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself, so you stayed at your post at the door.

“How are you feeling?”  

“Like shit.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That’s to be expected.”

He wastes no time before going into the apology he was planning on texting you this morning. Having you standing in front of him in his room was way more nerve-wracking.  

“I’m sorry.”

“Shawn really it’s fine.” It 100% wasn’t fine. He had a lot of explaining to do, if not for last night at least for the emotional roller coast he’s put you through the last week.  

“No, it’s not. I’m... I know what I said, or what I didn’t say before. But I didn’t mean to be such a dick. I just...i got scared because I’ve never met anyone like you.” With every word, you saw him get more and more flustered, and in a strange way, it was incredibly endearing. “You're just so sweet and you don’t put up with my shit, and your the only one who tells me when I’m being an asshole. But your a good person, and with you, I try, ya know? I try to be a good person, but I’m just not and I don’t deserve you.”

Halfway through his speech, you found yourself sitting next to him on his bed, hand in his hair, just like the night before.

“You’re not a bad guy Shawn. You deserve to have happiness just like everyone else.”

“You sure about that?”

You tug at his hair a little, forcing him to look over at you, with a smile.

“Of course.”

“And if you’re what makes me happy?”

“Then you’ve got me.”

He was a pain in the ass, but he was your pain in the ass and the conversation of what exactly it was you were doing wasn’t even close to being over. But whatever it was, it was worth fixing.


End file.
